


The Methodology of Couch Shopping

by DrowningByDegrees



Series: Home is Where We Make It [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, Every now and again I write happy things XD, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ridiculous banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningByDegrees/pseuds/DrowningByDegrees
Summary: Bucky and Steve's efforts to build a life together lead them furniture shopping. Bucky has a lot of opinions about couches, as it turns out.





	The Methodology of Couch Shopping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/gifts).



> One of my auctions for the [ Fandom Loves Puerto Rico](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomLovesPuertoRico) event was a series of drabbles, won by [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5). They asked for domestic, slice of life sorts of things. This is part of a series of 5 drabbles which can all be read independently, but are in the same story line and are posted linearly.

There was an insinuation of permanence that came with furniture shopping. It was something couples did - normal couples who intended to share a home together - and the thought was enough to make Steve grin when Bucky wasn’t looking. After everything they’d been through, they’d landed here, out of hurdles to leap. 

Steve took it back. There was one hurdle to leap. It was the size of their apartment five times over and full of more variations on a piece of furniture than he could wrap his head around, and that was just the room with the couches. They were still loitering in the foyer, and Steve was already wondering if maybe they ought to go find somewhere smaller. 

“I can see the headlines now.” The playful, slightly gruff drawl of Bucky’s voice got Steve’s attention. Knowing already that he was about to be the butt of a joke, Steve made a face. It didn’t deter Bucky in the slightest. Grinning impishly, he finished, “Captain America, Hero of the People… Conquered by Furniture Factory Outlet.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “I haven’t been conquered by anything. I’m just strategizing about how best to start.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Bucky replied, nudging companionably against Steve’s shoulder with his. 

“Easy?” Steve asked, inclining his head a little, but Bucky was already heading into the room. “There must be 50 couches in there. How do you figure?”

Steve didn’t need to see Bucky’s face to hear the wicked little smirk pulling at his lips. “Which one will make the most satisfying place to kick Sam’s ass next time he comes over to play video games?” 

Steve was very definitely not laughing. He certainly wasn’t coughing to hide said laughter. “Seriously?”

“See?” Bucky whirled back to face Steve, a grin on his face and his thumbs hooked in the belt loops on either side of his spine as he backed into the room. For just a second, he looked like they were back in 1943 and nothing terrible had ever touched him. “Easy.”

Steve followed Bucky until they were both surrounded by living room furniture, couches and love seats strewn haphazardly across the thinly carpeted showroom floor. Bucky backed right up into one of the couches. He might have meant to, given the way he plopped down on the cushions. It was objectively a perfectly serviceable couch. It had cushions and armrests and was a fairly neutral sort of brown, and Steve wondered if he was supposed to have an opinion. Instead of forming one, he watched Bucky sprawl out in the middle seat. “What do you think?”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not the one.” 

Surely, no one could blame Steve for snickering at the sheer level of finality to Bucky’s words. Bucky lifted an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment, so Steve filled in the empty space. “What? Are you going to sit on all of them?”

“Well, not all of them. Not that one.” Bucky waved his metal hand at a nearby couch. The velvety fabric was framed by ornate wooden edges at the arms of the couch, and knobby feet that reminded Steve of something out of a Victorian mansion. It might have been regal if not for the fact that the shade of yellow they’d chosen was just green enough to look less like mustard and more like puke. Bucky grimaced, still looking at it. “If you’re ever feeling bad about your life choices, remember someone decided _that_ was a good idea.”

“That is not remotely efficient. I’ll take half and we’ll be done faster,” Steve suggested, side-stepping the Couch of Unfortunate Decisions. 

Bucky huffed out a laugh as he stood up. “Efficient? We’re _furniture shopping_ , Steve. It’s not a mission.”

“I’m on a mission to make sure we’re not here for the next week trying to pick something out.” Steve wasted no time taking a seat on the nearest piece of furniture. 

He hadn’t looked at the couch at first, but he definitely saw the horrified look on Bucky’s face. “That is not our couch. That couch belongs to someone’s Grandma Ethel who has five cats and a display cabinet full of china plates.”

It was a surprisingly apt way to describe the horrendously floral sofa. Just out of spite, Steve wiggled down into the seat, all thought of efficiency forgotten. “Who knew you had so many opinions about living room furniture, Buck?”

“What? It’s just practical,” Bucky protested with a vague shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to do this again for a while. I’d rather not come out first thing in the morning to admire you sitting there with your coffee and sketchpad and be distracted by how much I hate that someone threw up a bouquet in our living room.”

Steve laughed at that. “Not to mention, it might dampen the effect when Sam’s gloating over Call of Duty.”

Bucky’s mouth opened in something like shock, and for a second nothing came out. “That was one time, Steve. One time.”

“Yeah, but just think about having to look at that couch when it happened,” Steve teased.

“Sorry. Maybe I misheard you, but I think you just said, ‘Bucky. I’d really rather do this couch shopping thing by myself’,” Bucky shot back. 

Steve briefly held his hands up in mock surrender, and then pointed out a nearby piece of furniture. “Alright, alright. What about this one?”

Bucky got up from where he’d been sitting to take a closer look. He walked around the couch, eyeing the sleek black leather. “It is a nice couch…”

“I hear a ‘but’ there,” Steve replied. 

Bucky gave him a sly little smile and leaned over the back of the couch. He dragged his bare flesh and blood fingers across the back cushion until it the friction made it squeal. Wiggling his eyebrows at Steve, Bucky said, “It’s pretty. Kind of squeaky, though. Are you sure that’s a choice you want to make?”

“ _Bucky_.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“What? It’s a long term purchase. I’m just considering all the possibilities,” Bucky teased, wandering deeper into the room. 

Steve got so distracted looking at options, he didn’t notice Bucky had disappeared until he nearly tripped. Bucky had knelt down next to a gunmetal grey sofa and was curling his fingers underneath the bottom lip of it. Brows knit in confusion, Steve asked, “What are you doing?”

“Testing how easy it is to grab. What did you think?” Bucky replied as he effortlessly lifted one end of the couch a few inches. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed satisfied and let it drop.

Steve always appreciated Bucky’s resourcefulness, even if this seemed like a strange place to be showing it off. He cracked a smile as Bucky sank down into the plush cushions at one end of the couch. “Are we shopping for a couch or a projectile?”

“In our line of work? Probably both. C’mon. Sit down you goof.” Bucky didn’t wait for Steve to comply, tugging him down to the cushions. Steve landed with a soft ‘oof’ against a seat that had just the right amount of give. 

Bucky tucked himself into the corner of the couch, tipping his head to the side to lean against the backrest, and Steve found himself biting his lip to stifle a smile. Steve could picture it, drawing at one end of the couch, with Bucky dozing in the corner, a book tucked against his chest. The early morning sunlight would be pale and unobtrusive, filtering through the blinds to soften Bucky’s features. It would be one of those rare, quiet moments where they were just people building a life together. 

“What are you smiling about?” Bucky murmured, sitting up until he was pressed against Steve’s side. It was casually intimate, the sort of thing Steve had never thought he’d have in a million years. 

“Nothing.” Steve reached to press his palm to Bucky’s, threading their fingers together. “I think you found the one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on my [personal](http://www.drowningbydegrees.tumblr.com) or [art/fic](http://www.drowningbydegrees-fanworks.tumblr.com) Tumblr!


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